


Mea Maxima Culpa

by betaadamantium



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Dark subject matter, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 10:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betaadamantium/pseuds/betaadamantium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of being possessed by Loki's power, Clint has trouble dealing with his actions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mea Maxima Culpa

**Author's Note:**

> Slight warning for mention of rape, in the context of Loki basically forcing himself on Clint (in a non-sexual manner). Having been through that kind of hell myself, I found it impossible not to see shades of violation in what Loki did; I needed to work through that and this fic is the result.

_Nock.  
  
Draw._ _  
  
Release._ _  
  
Repeat._   
  
Where before Clint could lose himself in the steady rhythm of shooting, sighting along the shaft of an arrow, feeling the fletching against his cheek as he exhales, now all it does is bring to mind those he killed.  
  
The men and women he killed while under Loki’s power keep entering his vision, replacing the familiar targets of the shooting range until he can’t see anything else and he feels sick. His eyes swim and he eases back on the string, blinking rapidly but he can’t stop the tears, the helplessness.  
  
Even worse, he keeps expecting Coulson to come down and pull him away, force food on him, and all the times he complained and cursed at the agent come back to stick in his throat. Phil isn’t coming back because Loki killed him. Shoved that scepter through his chest and took his life, the way he took Clint’s body and used him.  
  
He was aware the entire time, felt like he was screaming and clawing at a glass cage, Loki’s laughter echoing in his ears. There have been times in the past he’s been forced to do things he isn’t okay with, on orders from his superiors, but none of them have ever felt like this. Then he was taking out the bad guys, men who profited from death and pain. Men like Loki.  
  
Natasha tells him it’s not his fault and deep down he knows this. It doesn’t stop him from finding out the names and memorizing them, and each one is another arrow in his heart. He knows all the names of those he’s killed but it’s only the innocents, the ones caught in the crossfire, that haunt him when he’s calm and quiet for more than a few moments.  
  
“You told me you had red in your ledger,” he says to her, eyes pleading with her to understand.  
  
“But those are deaths I could have avoided, things I could have said ‘no’ to,” Nat replies, reaching out for him, and he knows that he is the only person she ever touches in affection and something approaching love. It hurts, that touch, when he feels he doesn’t deserve it. “You had that choice taken from you and you are not culpable for what happened.”  
  
They both know she’s a hypocrite, that in his place she’d feel the exact same way, but it doesn’t help. It doesn’t make him feel less like he literally has blood on his hands, doesn’t mean he he doesn’t wake up shaking and cold and screaming.  
  
And it’s not that the people he’s killed in the past on orders don’t haunt him, either, but they don’t make him feel like this. He knows how to push those aside and accept them.  
  
He wonders if this is what it feels like to have been raped, to have someone force themselves on him. No matter how many hot showers he takes he can’t boil his skin off, no matter how many hours he spends on the range he can’t shoot enough arrows to feel in control again, no matter how many punching bags he pummels he can’t get Loki’s voice out of his head. And in the privacy of his quarters he cries, more than he did as a child when his parents died and he and his brother Barney ended up in a traveling circus. He felt helpless then, too, but he found ways to cope.  
  
He argued like hell against sending Loki back to Asgard, and not just because he wants to beat the hell out of the god. It feels too much like they’re letting him go, letting him off easy; the bastard tried to end the entire fucking world and they’re remanding him into Asgardian custody, where’s the justice in that? Even if they’re the only ones that can reliably keep him locked up and out of mischief. Do the Asgardians, aside from Thor, even give a shit that Earth almost went the way of the dodo? After all, they left the planet, didn’t they?  
  
After a month, he’s still bleary-eyed and exhausted, afraid to sleep and miserable with it. He snaps at Natasha, comes dangerously close to death by way of Fury, ignores his new handler (“You’re not Coulson. You’ll never  _be_ Coulson.”) and generally isn’t fit to be around anyone. He feels lost, cut adrift, like he’ll never find an anchor to hold onto because one of his best friends is gone and the other doesn’t want anything to do with him.  
  
Even when the Avengers are gathered together again and told to “make it work” as a team, and they all move into some mansion Tony had lying around, he’s sullen. Not that he was ever happy-go-lucky, but he’s known for his irreverence and sarcasm and wit, whereas now he’s just known for brooding and avoidance.  
  
But slowly, bit by bit, he feels the guilt easing. Saving the world another three times makes him feel like he’s paying for his crimes, making up for what he was forced to do.   
  
Talking to Bruce helps, too. He finds that the scientist is old friends with guilt, with feeling loss of control. He knows what it’s like to be used. He doesn’t tell Clint exactly what to do but it makes him feel less like he’s alone.   
  
It never goes away completely. The ache in his chest lingers, comes back full force sometimes when he’s still and silent, but it isn’t so overwhelming anymore. The old Clint comes out of hiding, and Nat gives him her sweetest, most private smile.  
  
“Welcome back,” she tells him. The other Avengers have an impromptu party because, well, why not? Any excuse for raucous behavior and general silliness seems to fit them, no matter their differences and occasional quarrels.  
  
Maybe it’ll never go away. He doesn’t even want to forget, never wants it to stop mattering.  
  
But he thinks that, maybe, he can look at himself in the mirror and see a hero instead of a failure.


End file.
